


Terms and Conditions

by yet_intrepid



Series: turn your head from the past [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Activism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Isaac Feels, Isaac-centric, Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-11 00:48:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4414553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yet_intrepid/pseuds/yet_intrepid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Isaac's going to college at all, he's going with a thousand terms and conditions, from his choice of major down to when he has to get home. But he's got plans to make it livable, no matter what that costs him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terms and Conditions

**Author's Note:**

> I'm planning a loosely-connected series of fics in this AU, mostly more related to campus activism, but this one happened first. Ugh. Isaac. Baby.

His dad stands too close as Isaac files his declaration of major: marketing. They could have done it online, but no, Dad wanted to be right there in the office to see it done. No chance for Isaac to back out. If he’s going to college at all, he’s going with a thousand terms and conditions, and one of them is studying marketing so he can get more business to the cemetery.

He doesn’t say it, hasn’t ever, but he’d rather dig his own grave there than spend the rest of his life working for his dad.

“It’s good to see a student who knows what he wants.” The registrar’s assistant is beaming at them. “We have so many undecided freshmen.”

Dad’s hand on Isaac’s shoulder is a little too heavy. “Sometimes they need help.”

“There’s always our guidance office!” She holds out a flyer. “If you want to talk about your marketing classes, Isaac, call for an appointment anytime.”

Isaac swallows past the lump in his throat. “Uh. Thanks.”

He pockets the flyer before Dad can get it. The assistant reminds them when registration is, and Dad is steering him out the door, and it’s all _have a nice day_ and _thank you so much_ , but Isaac’s hardly there. He’s thinking. Hoping.

The plan’s probably a bad one, but at least it’s a plan.

\----

“What’s your major again?” Scott asks him, as they go over their first study guide for intro to psych.

“Education,” Isaac says.

“Cool,” says Scott. “We need more good teachers, man. So are you going to work with like, little kids, or high school, or what?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” Isaac flips around in the glossary of Scott’s third-hand textbook. “I’m thinking about doing history education, but I like kids too. The guidance office said I didn’t have to pick a track right away.”

Isaac is a big fan of not having to do things right away. Like telling Dad he switched majors, for instance. He’s hoping that won’t come out for a long time, maybe a year if he plays his cards right. He changed his student portal password, which Dad wasn’t happy about, but it’s buying him time. As long as he prints out and edits anything Dad might want to see before getting told to pull up the webpage, he’ll be fine.

Getting to college at all was a big enough fight, and Isaac’s still shocked to be here. He can’t risk getting pulled out.

“…working with kids too,” Scott is saying. “I mean, I guess that’s kind of the point of a social work major. Hey, maybe we’ll have some more classes together later on.”

“We’ve got this one right now,” Isaac points out. There’s still half the study guide left, and he doesn’t own this textbook.

“Oh. Right.” Scott looks embarrassed and they get back to defining terms in the seemingly interminable study guide.

“Shit,” Scott finally says, glancing at his phone. “I’ve got a meeting in ten minutes and I’ve really got to be there. We can finish later if you want? It should be short, just like, half an hour, and you can totally come, we’re talking about divestment and renewable energy and—Isaac, are you okay?”

Isaac looks up from frantically digging for his own phone. “What time is it?”

“Ten to six.”

“Shit,” Isaac whispers. This’ll be his third time getting home late. First two times, it was just warnings and pointed comments, but this time? He should have listened. He shouldn’t have been so _dumb._

Scott’s looking at him, eyes wide with concern. “Are you late to work or something?”

It’s the perfect out, but he finds himself not taking it. “No, just—my dad, he wanted me home. To, uh, help with dinner. He hasn’t really figured out that I’m in college.”

Scott’s forehead is still crinkled, but he nods. “Just tell him it’s my fault, man. Hey, you want to take the book home with you? I live on campus; I can get notes for the rest.”

Isaac flashes him a grateful smile and grabs the book, stuffing it into his backpack as he stumbles over himself to get going.

The sooner he’s back, the less chance there is that this all goes downstairs.

\----

Isaac gives Scott’s psychology book back as they stand outside the classroom on test day. “Thanks for the loan.”

“No problem,” says Scott. “You ready?”

“I don’t know.” He hasn’t even read over the study guide since they worked on it together, and he’s pretty sure there were a few questions they didn’t get to. But hey, curling up in a ball while his dad kicked him kinda took priority.

“Yeah, me neither.” Scott sighs. “Hey, don’t worry. You’ll be great.”

Isaac breathes a dismissive laugh. “Yeah, let’s hope.”

“You will!” Scott punches him in the arm and Isaac goes stiff. He doesn’t flinch, but Scott hits a bruise, and he’s pretty sure he makes a face.

Scott makes a face, too. The concerned face. “Dude, you okay?”

“What? Yeah.” Isaac shakes himself, breathes again. “I’m just—sore. ROTC. Did like a million pushups yesterday.”

Scott looks like he’s about to say something else, but then the door opens, the last class spills out, and it’s test time.

\----

“It’s just one evening a week.” Isaac plays with his green beans. Maybe he can make it sound like it’s not a big deal. “Tuesdays. You know, extracurriculars are good for your résumé.”

Dad raises his eyebrows. “You’ve already got a lot on your plate, Isaac.”

He does. He’s in ROTC, which was one of Dad’s conditions for college at all, and he works nights at the graveyard. He hardly sleeps as it is, and the last thing he needs is more to do.

But the problem is, he hates ROTC. He hates working for Dad. He wants to do something he picked.

“Just one evening,” he says again. “Dad, I’ve got to have some place to make friends.”

“Well, that’s why you’re in ROTC.”

Isaac plays with his food some more. He’s not making friends in ROTC. Doesn’t think he ever will. Honestly, he doesn’t understand how Camden dealt with the Army. The officers are just like Dad except they’re not allowed to hit you.

“Please,” he says, because he can’t confess any of that; it all goes bad places. “I’ll get to do some marketing stuff. Making flyers, email campaigns probably, that kind of thing. It’ll be good experience.”

Dad squints at him. “What kind of group did you say this was again?”

“Uh,” says Isaac, “they just do recycling drives and stuff.”

No way in hell he’s telling Dad it’s activism. Dad’s all for law and order, mostly imposed by him but also as a general rule. Isaac isn’t sure he cares that much about corporations and the environment, either, but hey. Scott’s nice, his friends are cool, and they get together to fuck stuff up. Isaac wants in.

“And you’d get to do their marketing?”

“Yeah. Pretty sure, anyway.”

Dad takes a bite, chews slowly. Isaac stares at his plate and tries to ignore the suspense, tries to breathe.

“Starts at six-thirty, you said.”

“Yeah.” Scott might have said six, but Isaac likes to buy himself time.

Dad nods. “Be home by eight.”

\----

“Ice cream?” Stiles says, as the meeting devolves into chatter. “I’m thinking ice cream.”

Isaac checks the time. It’s only six forty-five. He can totally go.

“Definitely ice cream,” says Lydia, and then they’re all getting up in a mass.

“Wait, wait,” says Scott. “We have to close the meeting. Any last comments, concerns, or general, uh, stuff?”

They all look around. After a second, Isaac lifts his hand.

“Yeah,” says Scott.

“My dad wants a flyer,” he says.

“Okay,” Scott says. “You can, uh, give those to anybody.”

“I know,” says Isaac. “But the problem is, he’s not exactly supportive of this stuff. So—” He hesitates. He should really have just done this instead of bringing it up. Scott probably won’t like it. “Um.”

“Fake flyer.” Stiles is pointing at him, grinning. “Right? Something totally, completely, one hundred percent innocuous.”

 Isaac feels himself starting to smile. “Yeah. I—I told him you guys did recycling drives.”

“Perfect.” Stiles starts scribbling on the back of a receipt.

“Do you need it tonight?” Scott asks.

“No, I can tell him I forgot.”

“Cool. We’ll get the info together for next week then. Lydia, can you pull some recycling statistics for us?”

Lydia looks at him. “Why am I always doing statistics?” she asks. “I’m not a statistics major. I’m robotic engineering and physics.”

“Yeah, but you’re like, hardcore STEM,” Stiles says. “So the rest of us rely on you!”

“Fine.” Lydia doesn’t actually look that annoyed. “I’ll get you your recycling statistics. Now, can we go get ice cream?”

\----

Things are good, Isaac tells himself firmly, the next time Dad shoves him into the freezer and he hears the lock click. Things are—they’re not perfect, but they’re better than they’ve ever been, pretty much. He has friends now, and his major’s still a secret, and he’s finding excuses to spend less and less time at home. His plans are working.

Isaac shifts in the tight space, swallowing back his panic. These are the terms and conditions, he tells himself. This is the price for making life better, for finding a way to survive, and he can pay it. He’s done it before.

And it’s a hell of a lot better than paying the same price for nothing.


End file.
